


The Shitty Library in the Center of Town

by arcadian_hiraeth



Category: Original Work
Genre: Demons, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Original Character, POV Original Female Character, Swearing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2019-12-27
Packaged: 2021-02-26 08:07:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21980056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arcadian_hiraeth/pseuds/arcadian_hiraeth
Summary: Leah Black works at the shitty library in the middle of town, and being a mild schizophrenic, she really doesn't have any dreams for more.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2





	The Shitty Library in the Center of Town

In the middle of our town, there's a shitty library that's open 24/7. Should you go inside, you'll see a few rows of shitty, knock off books that, in my opinion, would do better burning in fire. You would also see the tired librarian who looks more like an escaped coffin-dweller. That would be me.

If someone were to describe me, the first word would be _boring._ I'm not particularly smart, or pretty, or strong, so I don't really plan on leaving the place, however stupid that may sound. And the slivers of ambition that might have crawled through those flaws have all been crushed at fifteen, when I was diagnosed with mild schizophrenia. There was a time when it was classified as 'undifferentiated' but it doesn't really make a difference.

Well, at least I know where my lack of motivation came from.

I'm one of the very few to try and take the pills, despite the warning bells in my head, after my doctor assured me that yes, it was bad enough. But it was like they ground up those white smarties candy and stuffed them into a pill capsule thingy. In short, they didn't work. So I was relieved of those sorry excuses for neuroleptics after the, I think, tenth time they upped the dosage.

And now I work at the shitty library in the middle of town, waiting for whatever hallucination to go and fuck up my day. On the good days, It's just a kaleidoscope(a group of butterflies) flying around. Every other day will usually range from a tiger prowling the bookshelves, to a giant, looming figure standing right behind me.

Currently, my mother is trying to have a conversation with me. Except my mother is dead, and looking exactly the way she did when I found her at the bottom of our pool, rope wrapped around her wrists, ankles and a cement block. Her blonde hair was dark and wet, her skin pale and slightly wrinkled, with blotches of pink to dark red all over. Her eyes were milky and blank, lips a blue-purple.

"Honey, I really do think you should get out and see the world. Italy is beautiful this time of year. Did I ever tell you about the time your father and I went to Italy?"

I ignored her and her rambling. By this point, it was just white noise.

I was ready what appeared to be fanfiction of a TV show and god was it awful. The characters didn't have a set personality, it was almost as if a stoned fiver-year-old wrote the plot and a person obsessed with grammar and big words was forced to write it. It was better than listening to my dead mother recount a probably fake trip to Italy with a father I had never met, though, so I kept reading.

Sometime later, the door chimed as it opened, and in walked a being of vantablack. No light seemed to be able to touch them, and horns resembling a deer's protruded from it's 'head', right where the hairline should be. Their eyes were pinpricks of crimson at what I guessed to be the front of the face, and their hands vaguely resemble a human's. With long fingers and equally sharp talons, I wouldn't doubt they could rip me to shreds, should they be real.

The creature browsed the shelves for a few minutes, running their clawed hands along the spines of the books until, finally, they picked up a worn, torn and old book book of leather and yellowed pages. The creature brought it up to the counter and, real or not, I began the process. "Are you buying or checking out?"

"Buying." The words were warbled and rocked like a boat on rough waters, the pitches constantly shifting, changing, alternating between as deep as the ninth hell and as high as heaven, should they be real. The word was almost impossible to hear through it.

I ignored the 'accent', scanning the book and repeating the cost. I blinked, and a hundred dollar bill was on the counter, the creature gone.

Huh. I guess they liked me.

**Author's Note:**

> I realize this is kinda crappy, but it's also a spur-of-the-moment story. I don't really know if this will be continued or if it will just be a one-shot, but I hope you enjoyed it!


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